


in the time of the dragons

by a_sober_folly



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Agender and Pansexual Rhaenys!, Other, bisexual Visenya!, canon-typical incest, i tried writing more romance-y stuff!, in which aegon rhaenys and visenya have a happy mostly-closed poly relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 02:27:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9102436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_sober_folly/pseuds/a_sober_folly
Summary: A moment during the Conquest between Visenya and Rhaenys.





	

**Author's Note:**

> as they're both speaking in Valyrian, using one or two Westerosi words, it seemed the most sense-making to use English words for Visenya and Rhaenys to talk about

"I _hate_ Westeros," Visenya said irritably.

"Then why conquer it?" Rhaenys responded calmly. They rolled over to face Visenya.

"You _know_ why, Rhae. We have this conversation six-and-seventy times before." Visenya blew out a long breath. "For half a-- Rhaenys, what's their smallest coin here?"

"There's no unified one," Rhaenys responded gleefully. "From kingdom to kingdom, it changes."

"No unified coin?" Visenya looked horrified. "Then we'll conquer them all, to give these backwards Westerosi a singular system. We'll conquer it for that, at least."

"Careful, sister," Rhaenys teased. "You're starting to sound like Aegon."

"Fourteen Flames _forbid_ that!" Visenya let out a laugh. "Aegon and I agreeing on a thing? These Sunset Kingdoms truly send people backwards into barbarity."

"You did marry him," Rhaenys reminded Visenya. "You've no one but yourself to blame for that."

"I am eldest," Visenya retorted. "My children deserve no better." She pressed a kiss to Rhaenys's shoulder, one hand working down Rhaenys's body. "Besides, I needed to marry _you_ , and these, these--"

"Septons," Rhaenys supplied helpfully.

Visenya flapped her hand at her sibling. "Curse them all," she responded lightly. "Yes, these _septons_ of their seven do not allow an agender person and a woman to wed."

"Of course they don't." Rhaenys leaned over Visenya, silver-gold hair luminescent against their pale golden skin. "After all, if they did that, the Westerosi might not be the backwards people they are."

"The ones they call the First Men-- as if they were before all others, or a man, would ask for directions!-- are not completely hopeless. Their Andals are the most disgusting." 

" _You_ only say that because the First Men are not pallid and sickly as day-old milk, and you had an hour-long argument with a _septon_ \--" Rhaenys's beautiful mouth twisted over the brutish word, so out of place in the musical Valryian. "And for that, I cannot fault you. But as for your _argument_ \--"

"If these Westerosi will set men over women, then trans men like Orys, once claimed, ought to be placed in proper positions," Visenya retorted, removing her hand from Rhaenys, who rolled over and stole the sheets. Visenya refused to squeak at the sudden rush of cold, even to satisfy her sibling.

"Not that I disagree, Senya, quite obviously I do _not_ \--"

"Call me Senya often enough, and these people will see me as Queen Senya, and I'll be a laughingstock. Call it _quietly_ , at least, for I've a reputation."

"--it's a good thing you killed him in battle, or he'd have called for you to be burned or drowned as a witch."

"Burned, as if to Red R'hllor? Or drowned, as if to the Rhoynish gods?" Visenya frowned. "With all the importance these Westerosi place in colored bits of cloth on flags and chests, they ought to know fire cannot touch a dragon."

"You could have started _another_ war, Visenya." A pause, and Rhaenys slowly moved their foot up Visenya's leg, having freed it from their tangle of sheets. "Moreover, _I'm_ the dragon here."

"You and Orys both," Visenya protested, feeling a laugh build up. "But Orys doesn't have a dragon, Valryian though he is-"

"And our brother," Rhaenys cut in easily.

"Scurrilous rumor," Visenya responded, brushing it away. "We can't _all_ be related, us Easterners in Westeros."

"Says the Targaryen woman named for a half-goddess, the founder of the Velaryon line."

"I hate the gods," Visenya responded easily. "They do nothing but fuck mortals and cry when their daughters have fucked mortals and smite some. Give me a dragon-- that's a _proper_ god, see."

"If we lived in Valyria, you wouldn't be such a gods-spurner."

"Ah, but we live in godsforsaken Westeros, and have for generations. It's fashionable to spurn gods or think yourself a god, remember. And clearly, you didn't listen well enough when were taught history-- we had a thousand gods and bowed to none."

Rhaenys kissed Visenya, making her forget her next statement. "True enough," Rhaenys whispered softly, wetting a finger and tracing designs on Visenya's stomach. "But don't we?"

"I. . . " Rhaenys's finger, cold on her hot belly. The lightest of touches, a promise of what was soon to come. What had she been saying? Something about. . .about gods, about. . . Orys, perhaps. Argella, then?

"Don't--" she gave a laugh. " _Didn't_ the Dundurrons claim they were descended from a goddess? Elaena, or Elayne, or Ileni, some name like that."

"Elenei, daughter of storm gods." Rhaenys's voice was curiously and carefully neutral.

"Daughter of a storm goddess, then? That's a proper girl. Shall I take Argella flying sometime? A storm goddess ought to know the wind."

"If that is your wish, sister." Rhaenys's hand withdrew, and Visenya frowned.

"You're not jealous, sweet sibling, are you? You know I love you best."

"And Aegon does as well." Rhaenys frowned, gave a sigh. "I wonder, my love, does anyone share a bed with you while Aegon and I love each other? You did like Orys well, I remember."

"Share my-- Fourteen Flames, Rhaenys, the only one in my bed besides you is Dark Sister! Or perhaps Vhagar, when I make my bed on them, but I swear to you, Rhaenys, once I knew I loved you, I have _never_ been untrue."

She could not see Rhaenys's expression.  "My sister," her closest friend said softly. "What of Aegon? Surely--"

"We make the appropriate noises and then one of us leaves." Visenya frowned. "Truly, Rhae-- it would be like Aegon bedding Orys!"

"My poor sister," Rhaenys drew Visenya close. "I never thought you were so lonely."

"I'm not lonely," Visenya snapped. Never would she accept pity, even from Rhaenys.  "I have you, and I have Aegon and Orys for friends if I need any."

"Take Argella for your lover, then. Or Sharra Arryn, or a Lannister or Tyrell or Hightower woman. Those fair young beauties, the matured flowers--" 

Visenya threw a pillow at Rhaenys. "Sharra Arryn is ten years our elder! And the girls you speak of have not yet bled-- do you take me for some lecherous thing? Besides," she sat up with all the dignity she could muster. "They're all Andal, and I refuse to fuck an Andal."

"Then--" Rhaenys's eyes lit up.

"Rhaenys, no," Visenya said quickly. Last time Rhaenys had smiled like that, they'd renamed all the dragons.

"Deria Martell! She's Rhonyish, true, but she has flowered years ago, and is quite lovely, if what the Yellow Toad's portraits of her son looked like is any indication."

Visenya could only stare in horror. This was far worse than when Rhaenys tried to have them re-name the dragons.  
  
"Yes-- we'll have her sent, or send you! Seal an alliance with your _cunt_!" Rhaenys forced out the vulgar Westerosi word from laughter.  
  
" _Rhaenys_ ," Visenya begged. "Even if I was lonely, I would not fill my bed with Deria Martell, even if she was lovely as Sharra Arryn once was."

"A half-Rhonyish princess wouldn't frown on a Valyrian warrior queen! Argella would weep with envy if she hears you've filled your bed with Deria Nymeros Martell." Rhaenys was selling themself on the idea. "Her  deep onyx-black hair, and your pale silver-gold, her wide dark eyes and your narrow purple, her warm golden skin against your pale gold--"

"You sound as if you'd prefer to watch. Leap into _her_ bed, if you're so enamoured with bedding a Rhoynish whelp, and don't shove me. She's near enough our age I'm sure she's wed as well, to pop out a Nymeros Martell, if she hasn't already."

"As you'll pop out a spouse for the child who will be in my belly?"  
  
"Aye. For you, my dearest love." A pause, and a smile ran across Visenya's lips. "But if you keep pushing lovers at me, I'll dress as all sorts of men to visit you, and _your_ fidelity to us will be questioned!" She caught a pillow Rhaenys tossed at her. "I'll even learn to sing, so they'll think of me as many men." A glint filled her eyes. "See if I don't."


End file.
